Fields of Blood
by Alias-vendor
Summary: It was never supposed to be easy. There had been no doubt it would be difficult, but he had thought it possible. After all, how could he have known that his greatest challenge would be to wrest the one thing he loved…from himself?
1. Chapter 1

Summary: It was never supposed to be easy. There had been no doubt it would be difficult, but he _had_ thought it possible. After all, how could he have known that his greatest challenge would be to wrest the one thing he loved…from himself?

A/N: Read on at your peril. This is pure, unabashed, angst and I _cannot_ promise a happy ending. Of course there will be romance and humour and slash along the way, but the main category is angst. You have been warned.

…

_Prologue_

Tony Stark was dying. He knew it with a morbid certainty that pulsed through his veins in time with the frantic beating of his struggling heart. The world was slowing down around him, colours blurring into a spinning pallet as his universe grew ever dimmer and darker. It was strangely peaceful, dying. People said you could see your life flash before your eyes. He thought it a nice sentiment, comforting. Others said it was a cold, hellish, moment when you realised you were truly alone and that death was the inescapable end – the gateway to nothingness. As a scientist Tony could appreciate that the current theories heavily suggested that God could not have existed before the Big Bang, and therefore could not have created the universe thereby disproving the most basic tenet of religion and extinguishing the idea of a higher power altogether. As an Avenger, he knew there were far greater forces at work than humanity in the Universe. Yet none of this told him, definitively, what to expect beyond death.

Strangely, the thought didn't bother him.

He kind of thought it should have; particularly since he was trapped in a metal suit – part of which was lodged firmly in his left lung - and slowly drowning in his own blood. It seemed the kind of thing that ought to have bothered people.

Death was a funny thing.

He coughed harshly as blood bubbled between his lips in a deep red froth that tasted faintly metallic. Was it ironic that the suit that had once given him freedom was the very thing killing him? He wasn't sure…maybe it was just tragic.

He couldn't' see much beyond the sheen of red that covered the inside of the mask. It was a pity that the last thing he would see in the world would be the sight of his own blood oozing back at him and the last sound his dying breath. He could think of something – or rather, someone – he would much rather see and hear.

His breathing was coming in sharp gasps and he could feel the cold fingers of death hovering around him, just watching. Watching, and waiting, for him to breathe his last.

This time there was no way to disappoint.

The air caught in his throat and, as he struggled to drag it down, he knew the end had come. Black fog was sinking into his brain and his thoughts were vanishing into the darkness like wraiths. Resistance was futile, and he didn't have the strength to fight, so he calmed and let the inky blackness wash him away.

…

_Chapter 1_

He wasn't sure how it had started…no scratch that, he knew _exactly_ how it had started. What he didn't know was how it had escalated so damn quickly…and for that matter, how he'd _let_ it. His personal theory was masochism. He had it in spades, or so people kept telling him. It would certainly explain his current predicament. Pretty well, actually. To a tee.

Masochism.

With a healthy side of stupidity.

…and maybe a smidgeon of animalistic lust.

Make that a vat.

It was a dangerous combination, and a heady one. It was the laundry list that comprised his impending doom. If they _ever_ found out, if they even so much as _suspected,_ he was as good as a sack of ground meat.

_Barbequed _ground meat.

Probably imprisoned for life, barbequed, ground meat if he was lucky.

'Stark, I tire of your pointless fretting.' A silky smooth voice sent heat rushing to his toes. Well, it would have reached his toes if it hadn't stopped someplace a little higher. Tony frowned minutely and twisted around in his chair to level an accusing gaze at the perpetrator of his impending doom.

'You,' he pointed for effect, 'are a problem.'

'A fact upon which I pride myself,' Loki raised an elegant eyebrow as his lips curved ever so slightly.

'This is serious.' Tony pouted and swung back around to brace his arms on the desk.

Somehow, unfathomably, frequent and generally passionate battles (as in both sides legitimately wanted to_ kill, _or otherwise_ maim, _each other) had devolved into less frequent and equally passionate, ridiculously amicable, actually downright _friendly _meetings in which mere _words_ had been exchanged. Of course said meetings had been secret, brief, and usually with some ulterior purpose but Tony had enjoyed them, had planned them even. In true fashion he hadn't realised what he was walking into until he was right, dead centre, in the middle of it.

He tensed as he registered a presence behind him and then relaxed incrementally as familiar fingers caressed his muscles with easy skill. The hands were cool – like marble – as they slid along his skin and he leant back into the touch gratefully.

They had been civil, maybe even _friends. _Or as close as a genius, billionaire, philanthropist, playboy and an arguably psychotic chaos God could ever get. 

Hot breath ghosted along the nape of his neck followed by lips that trailed from the hollow of his shoulder to the shell of his sensitive ear.

And then _that_ had happened. Loki had changed the rules, and damn it if Tony hadn't _let_ him.

'You worry too much.' The words were whispered into his ear so softly he could only just make them out through the vibrations rippling along his skin.

The hands stilled and then the pressure vanished as the warmth disappeared, leaving him strangely bereft. He turned his head slightly in question only to see nothing but empty space. Spice lingered in the air and sent a pang of loss ricocheting through his system.

He hated it when Loki did that; it simply wasn't _fair_.

Usually there was a reason and, soon enough, it came to him in the form of a rather raucous sounding knock.

'Tony?'

Of course it was Steve and his ridiculously bad timing. He couldn't begin to count the number of times the star-spangled soldier had interrupted him in the midst of several less than savoury activities – lately most of them involving a certain notorious criminal with a bad habit of vanishing without proper notice.

'What?' He grouched, not bothering to turn back around or get up to open the door. He had his super awesome AI for that. Oh wait, he'd temporarily disabled him - couldn't have any witnesses to his monumental lapse of judgement after all.

'Open the door please.' Steve punctuated his sentence by rapping his knuckles once again on the door. There was a mild undertone of annoyance in his voice, but he was as polite as ever.

Tony grumbled to himself as he reinstated Jarvis with a few petulant keystrokes.

'Jarvis, open the door for our illustrious captain would you?'

'Of course, sir.' The disembodied AI's voice reverberated through the room. The door slid open with a swoosh to reveal Steve clad in unusually time-appropriate clothing. He actually looked somewhat normal for a change.

'We have a situation,' were the first words out of his mouth.

Tony flinched and almost dropped the glass of water he'd just picked up. He couldn't know…could he?

'…er, we do?' He coughed to clear his throat and return his voice to normal. Gulping the water he put the glass down on the table and turned around, his typical innocent _don't know what you're talking about_ face in place.

'Yeah, we do.' Steve said somewhat suspiciously. He narrowed his eyes, tone carefully measured. 'We found the missing socks.'

'Oh?' Tony raised a brow, somewhat curious as to what the point was.

'…they were in _your_ lab.' Steve finished suspiciously.

'_Oh_.' Tony blinked and then scowled. 'Tell me, _Captain_…what exactly were you doing in my lab?'

'Searching.' Steve didn't even have the decency to look contrite.

'Uh huh,' Tony raised an eyebrow, 'maybe the better question is _why?_ Or even _how_?'

At that Steve's expression shifted into something vaguely resembling guilt, or perhaps even sheepishness – assuming the word could even be applied to the man.

'It was open,' he defended.

'Uh no it wasn't,' Tony rebutted. 'Because I distinctly remember closing the door after I left and telling Jarvis to _lock it_. Back me up here, Jarv?'

'Of course, sir. The laboratory was in fact locked when you left.'

'There,' Tony said triumphantly, 'you see – locked. Ergo you must have-'

'It wasn't locked,' Steve interrupted. 'The door was wide open.'

'Jarvis?' Tony queried, waving his hand in indulgent exasperation.

'The Captain is correct, sir.' Jarvis confirmed.

'You're telling me my door just _magically –_'Tony paused as the word left his lips and the parameters of the situation sunk in. _Son of a bitch_, he thought fondly. 'Well okay then.' He finished, 'stranger things have happened.'

And they had.

Now that Tony was more or less _dating_ the God of mischief he had, after all, had to put his foot down on the general villanry and plans of world domination. Predictably, they hadn't gelled with his superhero self-concept. Less predictably, Loki had actually agreed with minor fuss (Tony was half convinced that the guy was tired of failing to take over the world and just wasn't man enough to admit it) and had promptly turned to much sneaker, and fairly passive-aggressive, methods of mischief.

In short, he was making things hard for the other Avengers and they had _no idea_ he was doing it. Things kept going missing – most recently Clint had complained about losing every single left shoe in his possession. Socks never made it to the laundry (because clearly, as he now realised, they were making their jolly old way into his laboratory). Toothbrushes vanished and reappeared in the most unlikely places (most notably, and randomly, in a bag of frozen peas Bruce had attempted to cook) while doors slammed without provocation. Generally, the place seemed like it was haunted. For Tony, it was mostly amusing watching the others walk around like there was a particularly recalcitrant ghost watching their every movement. It was even better when they tried to watch the security footage and all they could see was things vanishing abruptly and moving without physical stimuli.

For his part Loki seemed to be having the time of his life, and Tony was of the opinion that he was much more suited to covert warfare.

He supposed this was what the God had been like before whatever psychotic break had caused him to turn to wanton destruction and world domination.

'Sure,' Steve pursed his lips. 'Since you brought it up – enough is enough Tony. For God's sake stop stealing Clint's left shoes.'

'You can't prove it was me.' Tony pointed out, 'as I recall there's a distinct lack of evidence on that front.'

'Who else would it be?' Steve asked, exasperated. 'I only know one guy around here with the emotional maturity of a monkey.'

'Maybe it's Loki.' Tony suggested, choosing to ignore the quip about his maturity. He was plenty mature.

'Of course, how stupid of me.' Steve said with an impressive amount of sarcasm. 'Thor's murderously insane younger brother is taking time off of his busy schedule to play _pranks_ on people he usually tries to kill.'

'Have you seen him lately?' Tony asked, bristling at the comment even though he knew the others had no reason to see Loki in the same light he did.

'Whatever he's doing,' Steve sighed, 'I'm positive it's not stealing shoes and toothbrushes.' He shook his head as he turned to leave, 'just stop, okay?'

The door slid closed behind him.

'Well that was hurtful,' Loki materialised by the door, leaning casually against it. 'I do believe I have not tried to kill anyone in months.' He smiled wickedly, 'something I should rectify, perhaps?'

'Hmph,' Tony said eloquently. 'Stop framing me for your petty crimes.'

'Shall I perhaps blame the good Captain?' Loki suggested, examining his nails absent-mindedly.

'That would be funny.' Tony agreed, 'Do that.'

'As you wish.' Loki peeled gracefully away from the wall and stalked towards him, green eyes glinting with mischief. About half-way across the room he paused and then froze completely, his gaze turning distant.

'What in the nine…' he muttered.

The next moment the tower's alarm sounded and Jarvis's voice was blaring through the room.

'Sir, the war criminal known as 'Loki' has been spotted in New York.'

Tony blinked and looked at Loki who raised an eyebrow, affronted.

'I most certainly have not.'

'Jarvis, elaborate.'

'Captain Rogers asked me to inform you that the police and S.H.I.E.L.D are being called in as we speak; Director Fury has requested the Avengers assist. Loki appears simply to have caused mass hysteria and so far as the Director is aware, no fatalities have occurred.'

Loki frowned, 'there was a power surge, moments ago. It may be connected. I will investigate.'

'Wait,' Tony grabbed his arm before he disappeared. 'It's definitely not you?'

'I am here, Stark.' Loki sneered, though his tone was bereft of any malice. He softened minutely at Tony's expression and sighed. 'I gave you my word, did I not? You would do well to remember that.'

'I do.' Tony said softly, serious, and then grinned. 'I just know all the freaky things you can do with your magic.'

Loki smirked lasciviously and raked his eyes over Tony's body, 'if only.'

'I like the sound of that;' Tony countered with his own lecherous leer.

Loki leaned in close, sliding his face along Tony's until he reached the sensitive shell of his ear.

'You have no idea.' He whispered, the words humming with a promise that suffused heat through the shorter man's body.

The God was gone almost before the sentence had left his lips, and Tony was left staring into empty space and feeling extremely cheated.

'Sir, perhaps you might like to put on your suit?' Jarvis suggested.

'Right, yes, yeah.' He shook himself out of his stupor, 'duty calls.'

…


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

'Six months of silence, and now he chooses to show up?' Steve checked the leather straps that held his shield to his arm, his voice tight. 'What's his play?' His blue eyes were narrowed uncharacteristically and his expression was grim.

'Mischief. Mayhem. Destruction.' Barton offered darkly as he tested the tension in his bowstring. 'Take your pick.'

'Whatever it is, he won't get it.' Natasha said grimly, flicking a switch on the dashboard as she piloted the Quinjet. 'Stark, what's your position?'

'Well honey, I'm a downward dog kind of guy,' Tony's voice crackled in through the radio.

'She's not talking about Yoga,' Steve snapped.

'Yeah, buddy, neither was I.' Tony quipped. 'Alright guys, I have eyes on Loki. He's…well actually he's not doing anything.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean he's standing in the middle of Central Park and there are no fires, or collapsing buildings, or murdered innocents at his feet.'

'Well he's up to something,' Steve frowned.

'Maybe he's just out for a stroll?' Tony suggested airily, 'bet it gets real cosy in those secret super villain lairs – maybe the guy's just stretching his legs.'

'Yeah I'll bet that's it.' Natasha deadpanned. 'This is Agent Romanoff to Director Fury. We are landing in Central Park. The target has not engaged.'

'Copy that Agent,' the Director responded. 'ETA five minutes. You have permission to engage the target.'

'Copy that, Sir.' She began the landing process, her mouth a tight line.

Steve and Barton unstrapped themselves, both moving to the rear of the jet in preparation. The shorter man drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it, running his finger gently along the length until it came to rest where the shaft met the string.

The moment the bay doors opened and the ramp descended, both heroes were on the move and advancing towards their target.

Loki turned to face them as they approached and an unidentifiable expression flitted across his face.

'Ah, the solider and the hawk.' He smirked but there was something strained in the movement. His eyes were dark and blood-shot and his hair fell in greasy tangles around his face. 'The first of my brother's minions, no doubt.'

'Stand down Loki,' Steve instructed as Natasha levelled with them and settled into a fighting stance.

'…and the woman.' The God mused, 'hmm no, this one is different.' He seemed to be talking to himself, his gaze distant.

'I'll put an arrow in his eye-socket,' Barton volunteered. 'That should get his attention.'

'You dare greet me with such hostility?' Loki turned his gaze to the archer incredulously and tutted. 'What control my brother lacks in this pitiful dimension.' He narrowed his eyes, shadows pooling underneath the lids. 'Where is Thor? I would speak with him.'

'Since when are you on speaking terms?' Natasha eyed him calculatingly.

'You dare question me?' Loki snarled, 'I will not suffer this insolence.' Green fire flared around him as he clenched his fists, somehow engulfing his surroundings without burning them.

'That's some temper tantrum you got there,' Tony landed near him with a thud, his voice tinny and amplified by the suit. 'Did mommy take away all your candy?'

'…Stark?' The fire stuttered and died, melting into the air in a shower of sparking cinders. Loki stepped towards him hesitantly and slowly extended a hand as if to touch the suit.

Tony froze, completely unsure of what was going on. According to _his_ Loki, this wasn't his Loki…although his Loki hadn't exactly been clear on who this Loki was, if not his Loki. It was confusing, even for his brain.

'Hold it right there reindeer games,' he took a step back and held his hands up in the "woah" gesture. 'No touchy.'

The not-his-Loki drew back as if burned, his gaze narrowing and darkening until anger once more caressed the nuances of his face. He seemed to rein it in, smoothing his expression into one of haughty expectance.

'Come.' He said simply.

'What the _hell_ is going on here?' Barton growled, his gaze flitting from Loki to Tony. 'Tony?'

'Uh how should I know?' Tony protested.

'He tried to _touch_ you.' Steve pointed out, 'and you know, you've been awfully defensive of him lately.'

'Enough, I tire of this petty nonsense.' Loki interrupted and waved his hand. A gust of emerald tinged wind sent Steve flying across the park to slam into a far off tree. 'You will come, Anthony. I will not ask again.'

Pandemonium erupted.

Barton loosed his arrow, reaching for a second one even as Loki effortlessly caught the first and snapped in in half. The God waved his hand again and sent the archer sailing off to plunge into the lake and, with another flick of his wrist, sent the approaching Steve to join him. In the same moment Natasha shot her gun, cursing as he dodged the bullet, and leapt out of the way of the next gust of wind aimed in her direction. She rolled behind Tony and used him as a shield as he spluttered briefly.

'…and why would I do that?' He asked incredulously, wondering just what not-his-Loki was playing at.

'Because you are mine.' Not-his-Loki answered simply, green eyes flashing with a possessive fire, 'and I have come to claim you.'

'Ooookay,' Tony raised an eyebrow. 'Not sure what universe you beamed down from buddy, are you sure it wasn't fantasy land?'

'I lack the patience for your jests,' the God stepped closer. 'I do not require your permission, Anthony.'

Tony stepped back and hoped his Loki was going to intervene soon because things were getting weird.

'You will, however, require mine.' His Loki stepped out of the shadows, materialising between him and not-his-Loki.

'Great.' Natasha muttered, 'now there are two.'

'It's one of his tricks.' Steve approached cautiously, Barton a step behind him.

'What business have you in this dimension?' His-Loki demanded.

'Guys I don't think they're the same,' Barton muttered into their radios. 'Look at them both.'

'Doesn't matter,' Steve said grimly, 'I doubt either is a friendly.'

'None that is yours.' The not-his-Loki sneered, but his expression seemed to falter slightly.

'You _will_ speak.' Loki stepped forward, eyes glinting a steely green.

The not-his-Loki stood his ground, emerald magic once again swirling around him.

'My words are my own,' he spat, 'and I shall do with them as I please.'

Loki stepped forward again, his glare menacing, and the two seemed to lock in a staring contest.

In the background S.H.I.E.L.D vehicles and helicopters began to flood the park, black-clad operatives pouring out of them in droves.

The not-Loki broke the staring contest to glance at them. Anger flared in his eyes and he clenched his fists.

'This is not over.' He hissed, 'I _will _claim what is mine.'

He vanished as Loki watched with a cool gaze, the only hint of his concern the tiniest twitch in the corner of his mouth.

'It seems the fun is over,' he turned slightly and acknowledged the man behind him. 'I believe I will take my leave.'

'Not so fast.' Director Fury levelled an impressive looking gun at the God, 'I'm thinking we want some answers first.'

Loki raised an eyebrow, completely unintimidated, and then shrugged elegantly, 'and you shall have them, Director.' He started to fade, 'though not by my tongue. I daresay your operatives can fill you in.'

'That seemed a common threat,' Natasha remarked, 'maybe we could both gain from a temporary truce.'

'_What?_' Barton snarled, 'he's probably behind it.'

'You said it Clint,' she pointed out, 'they didn't look the same.'

'We are not.' Loki agreed, shooting a brief glance at Tony. 'You are correct, Agent Romanoff. Ask your questions then, Director.' He swept a hand out in invitation.

Fury scowled, his one eye narrowing, but lowered his gun a fraction.

'If that wasn't you, then who was it?'

'He is from another dimension.' Loki answered smoothly, 'one much the same as this I imagine.'

'Bullshit,' Barton snarled and shook off the calming hand Natasha placed on his shoulder.

'It is theoretically possible,' Tony removed his facemask. 'String theory posits the existence of an infinite number of dimensions.'

'So he is you.' Steve surmised.

'In essence, I suppose you are correct.' Loki frowned, 'though I cannot say in what ways he is similar.'

'I can think of a few,' Barton muttered darkly.

'In any case, he is weak for the moment.' The God rubbed his fingers together, magic sparking at the tips. 'It would have cost him a great deal of energy to travel here, but his strength will soon return.' He fixed Fury with a steely gaze. 'I fear this world will reap the consequences of our defiance.'

'You sure think mighty fine of yourself, don't you?' Fury drawled.

'I looked into his soul, Director.' Loki said simply. 'There was nothing but madness – madness, and pain. What shred of reason he may once have possessed is long lost to him. You would do well to heed my warning.' His gaze flitted to Tony, and then back to Fury. 'You know not of what I am capable.'

'Well that's real funny,' Fury raised an eyebrow, ' 'cause as I recall it, it was _you_ getting your homicidal ass hauled off to extra-terrestrial prison as a direct result of your last clash with us mere mortals.'

Loki chuckled wickedly, 'and yet here I am.' He shook his head, 'remember, Director, I did not intend to destroy this world. I _intended_ to rule it.' He flickered once again, his image beginning to fade. 'At this point, he is but a rabid dog; all the more dangerous because of his disease. Madness has no leash, Director. He will not be stopped.'

'Well he must want something.' Fury pointed out.

'Oh indeed,' Loki vanished but his words lingered in the air. 'On that we can agree.'

Silence followed his disappearance until it was broken with a heavy grunt of annoyance.

'I don't like this.' Fury scowled, 'once again that madman holds all the cards.'

'He could be lying,' Natasha said without conviction, 'that's kind of his MO.'

'Not this time.' Tony shook his head. 'Somehow I doubt he's into conducting little performances for our viewing pleasure.'

'Why thank you Mister Stark,' Fury mustered an impressive amount of sarcasm into his words. 'As always, your input is invaluable. Now how about you put that pretty brain of yours to work and tell me why an extra-dimensional God of chaos just called you his property?'

'Maybe he's a fan?' Tony said lightly.

'This dimension's Loki seemed pretty interested in Tony also,' Steve fixed Tony with a calculating gaze, 'something you need to tell us?'

'No.' Tony met his gaze unwaveringly.

'I may not know what's going on here,' Fury said calmly, 'but you can be damn sure I'm going to find out, so if you have _any_ information for us Mister Stark I _suggest_ you level with us now.'

'I don't.'

'Fine.' Fury gazed at him a moment longer, disbelief clear in the lines on his face, and then turned from them to consult with his agents. 'Thor is in Asgard, but have someone get Banner in – he's the one who beat down on Loki's ass the last time we met and he can do it again. '

'On it, Sir.' Agent Hill moved to comply with the request.

'The rest of you,' Fury turned back to the Avengers, 'can figure out what's so goddamn important about Stark, and maybe try and convince me that I shouldn't just _hand him over_.'

…

Tony made it back to the tower first. He knew the others were going to give him hell when they found him, and they didn't even know the full story. This wasn't going to end well; he just knew it.

He stepped out of his suit and slumped into a chair by his desk, plonking his forehead against the cold glass.

Fury would have his head on a silver platter, and Steve…Steve would probably help him. He was a by the books kind of guy – the true all American boy-scout. Clint _would_ actually kill him. In fact, Clint would use him as a life-sized pincushion. He couldn't decide what Thor's reaction would be. It would have to be somewhere between "unbelievably happy his brother had stopped trying to take over the world" and "overly protective bear brother". Actually, Thor would probably approve.

'You think too much.' Whispered words tickled the hairs at the nape of his neck as warm breath ghosted across his skin. Lips moved to reclaim the phrase, a gentle brush at the tip of his spine, as fingers dug into his muscles and kneaded them expertly.

Tony closed his eyes and leaned back into the strong hands, releasing his breath in a long exhale.

'What is going on, Loki?' He opened his eyes when hands stiffened against his skin for a few seconds before returning to their task.

'…I cannot say.' Loki said finally, the leashed self-anger evident in his words. 'Would that I could tell you, Anthony-' He froze as the word left his lips, fingers stilling once again.

'What?' Tony prompted, turning away from the table to face the black-haired God. Loki's hands fell back to his sides and he shook his head minutely.

'I simply don't know.' His mercurial gaze shifted from Tony's face and to a spot somewhere behind him. 'Though I have no doubt that we will soon be enlightened.'

'Yeah,' Tony could see the uncertainty echoed in his movements, 'I'm not a fan of hindsight,'

'I imagine that you are not.' Loki's lips curved in the beginnings of a smirk, but his gaze remained distant. He stepped away, folding his arms behind his back, and seemed to retreat mentally the way Tony imagined he, himself, did when tinkering.

He sat back and watched, his own thoughts tumultuous, and allowed the God time to collect himself and analyse the earlier events. When Loki finally acknowledged him it was with eyes of flat jade that reflected none of the emotions he had so carefully hidden away.

'He claimed you as his.' The words were positively one-dimensional.

'Yeah, I noticed.' Tony had to fight the urge to throw in a quip about jealousy and turning green, he didn't think it would go down well.

'Then it seems we can assume his dimension is similar to this one, in that aspect at least.' Loki mused, a steelier edge to his words.

'Well, someone's awfully cocky.' Tony raised an eyebrow.

'Am I?'

Tony couldn't look away under the intensity of the fiery gaze, mesmerized by the tiny flickers of flames that seemed burn across his irises.

'You are mine, Anthony Stark,' he moved closer, 'are you not?'

Lord, Tony _loved_ the way his full name rolled off of the God's tongue. Still, "mine" implied possession and his lover wasn't exactly known for being the biggest supporter of human rights.

'I, I don't,' he stumbled, for once lost for words, 'not in the way I think you mean.' He said finally.

'Oh but I think you are,' Loki breathed and lowered his head until his lips were brushing against the side of Tony's face. His fingers curled into the smaller man's neck, their touch cold.

'…in _every_ way.' He continued, the words vibrating along Tony's cheekbone.

Tony's own hands were braced on the taller God's torso, his fingers tracing patterns into the tough leather protecting it. He was about to protest the God's assertion when he whispered a few more words that sent shivers dancing down his spine.

'Just as I am yours.'

Loki's hand travelled to his chin, elegant fingers splaying along his skin, as his lips moved to capture Tony's own.

'I am possessive,' he whispered. 'I am jealous.' He moved forward, pressing Tony against the desk. 'I am many things, Anthony, but half-hearted has never been one of them.'

For once, Tony couldn't find the words to speak. The quips and witty repartee that came so easily to him seemed to splutter and die in the wake of the God's uncharacteristically revealing words.

'When I give myself it is wholly, completely, utterly, and I expect nothing less in return.'

Tony arched his neck as the God's lips trailed a sinful path down the sensitive skin.

'…and what, _Mr. Stark_,' he murmured, 'do you say to that?'

'All or nothing.' Tony agreed, his voice catching in his throat and melding into a low groan. 'Scratch the nothing.'

…


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

When Tony woke, it was to an absence at his side. He was sprawled in the bed, alone and craving the warmth he was usually treated to. His eyes flickered open lazily and his arm grazed the still warm indent beside him – so Loki hadn't been gone long, then. He wasn't completely unused to waking alone; Loki did vanish from time to time, though those times had been growing increasingly infrequent. He stretched luxuriously along the length of the bed and then sat up, blankets pooling around his waist.

Loki was standing by the large glass window, stark naked and seemingly lost in thought. His back was to Tony and he was completely still. Tony unconsciously took the opportunity to sweep his gaze down the long elegant lines that composed the God, marvelling at the almost agonizing perfection of his being. Perfect in the sense that he was so artfully sculpted, a divine design that bore none of the fallings and flaws that characterised the human race. _To which he does not belong_, Tony reminded himself.

It was never clearer to him than in those quiet moments of pure observation just how God-like the other really was. He was above humanity, not because he was a 'perfect being' with all the morals and ethics typically ascribed to 'God' but simply because he was not. He was arrogant, unapologetic, often cruel and undoubtedly selfish. He killed without conscience and possessed a magic that the world could never even hope to know, yet still people insisted on trying to drag him down to their level.

Tony had as well, once. He had judged Loki by human standards and failed to see why that just didn't make sense. Now he saw it; he simply wasn't human.

'Come back to bed.' Tony said softly, certain that the God would hear him.

Loki turned his head to glance over his shoulder. The early morning light seared an ethereal halo around his dark locks, alighting along the edges as if burning them. His eyes were a pale grey, shadowed by the tilt of his chin, and his lips downturned minutely. He was silent for what seemed like an age, his shadow flickering with the sun.

'I must return to Asgard.' He said finally.

Tony ruffled a hand through his hair and resolved himself to a serious early-morning conversation. Those, he usually actively avoided but it seemed there was no escaping this one.

'Correct me if I'm wrong,' he said slowly, 'but aren't you kind of a wanted criminal over there?'

'Irrelevant.' Loki said simply.

Tony watched the muscles shift in his back as he clenched a fist almost experimentally and then released the tension, moving his fingers to the window to trace something indistinct on the glass.

'This matter is far too important.' His voice was low and clouded with something Tony couldn't identify. 'I must retrieve Thor.'

'I'm sure with your help we could handle extra-dimensional you.' He pointed out, fluffing up a pillow and placing it against the backrest of the bed.

'Perhaps,' Loki acknowledged. He traced another symbol onto the glass, long fingers pale and elegant. 'However, I find that I am not willing to take that chance. The risks are far too great, the consequences…unacceptable.'

'Awww…' Tony crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back against the pillow. 'You love me, huh?' He'd meant it as a joke, an off-hand comment.

The God turned almost fully, the sun glancing across his chest and dipping along his thighs.

'I would think that obvious.' The green fire of his magic sparked in his eyes, the pale grey a forgotten memory. His gaze was so mercurial Tony had often become lost, tracing the ever-changing colours through his irises.

Tony choked on his thoughts, as he often did when the God's full attention was focused on him. There was something so magnetic about that gaze, something mesmerizing – he was a force of nature, or perhaps a force beyond it.

Loki stepped away from the window, waving his hand almost lazily as he did so. His full battle regalia, sans helmet, shimmered into being within a microsecond.

'…no fair.' Tony pouted, though his narrowed eyes gave away the affected nonchalance.

'I estimate he will require a number of weeks to regain the power he lost in inter-dimensional travel,' Loki changed the subject artlessly. 'He will not attempt anything before this time, given the force he is up against. Of course,' he frowned introspectively, 'he is mad. Stay with your team.' He ordered, 'do not go anywhere alone.'

'Yes, sir.' Tony flicked two fingers in a mock salute. 'Shall I polish your boots while I'm at it, or-'

'Anthony,' Loki interrupted him without humour. 'I do not jest.'

'Relax Loks,' Tony sighed and slid out from under the bedcovers. 'I'll be a good boy.'

'Oh, I very much doubt that.' The God watched him unblinkingly; steely gaze taking in his considerably undressed state without outward expression. His words were laced with dark undertones but the singular tilt of his eyebrow suggested a subtle humour.

Tony brushed a hand along the stiff leather that ran along the other's shoulder and silently bemoaned the disparity in their states of dress. He much preferred Loki sans armour.

_Sans everything_, the primal part of his brain added helpfully.

'Hurry back?' He requested lightly, rough fingers moving past the leather to tangle in the black locks that engulfed it.

'Of course.' Loki moved his own hand to still Tony's, pale fingers wrapping around the starkly contrasting tanned wrist. 'I must depart. Time is fleeting and we have little as it is.'

Tony reached out with his other hand, curling it around the nape of Loki's neck and drawing him closer. He felt warmth against his lips, a crushing pressure, wild and intense, and then he was grasping air and struggling to keep himself up as Loki's form seemed to dissipate into the atmosphere.

'Fuck, I hate that.' He scowled emphatically but couldn't help the fond smile that twitched at his lips.

…

A/N: Sorry just a short one this time, but it's all I have at the moment.


End file.
